Dark Minds
by Lady Aramis
Summary: What happens when a wild bout of accidental magic traps Voldemort powerless in Harry's head? Will the two be able to coexist, or will they drive each other mad?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**As this is my first story, could you lovelies please keep the flames down to a minimum? Thanks.**

"talking"

'_thinking'_

_/mind-talking/_

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**Book 1—Dark Allies**

**_Chapter 1_**

Harry screamed as the blinding pain in his scar intensified, rising for a moment over the possessed professor's pained and horrified shrieks as Quirrel burned to death under his touch. Harry let go of the man as Quirrel's face dissolved to ash, clutching his scar and whimpering. A smoky, shadowy figure separated itself from the rapidly dissolving remains of Quirrel's body. The almost indiscernible face contorted in rage upon seeing Harry, and the specter let out a furious yell as it charged toward him. Harry screamed shrilly again, louder than before, as he felt an invading presence in his mind and body. Terrified, he tried to fling the presence away, to make it _get out of his head! _He felt something snap deep within him, and his scar burned worse than it ever had before. Harry heard a rushing sound in his ears, and the last thing he heard before collapsing from magical exhaustion was a familiar voice calling his name.

**HPLVHP**

Harry lay in the infirmary bed, staring at his sheets. He didn't know what to think about his conversation with Dumbledore. The man had seemed friendly enough, but Harry had noticed the calculating expression behind that friendly demeanor.

_/Personally, I think that your little chat is proof that the Old Man has finally cracked. He seriously said you survived because of your __mother's love__? He's gone completely mad./_

Harry sat up ramrod straight in the bed, looking about the room wildly. There was no one to be seen, though Harry supposed someone could be under an invisibility cloak...

He heard a snicker. /_I'm not __out there__, idiot boy./_

Harry went perfectly still. '_Not out there... What was that supposed to mean?'_ Then, a horrible thought struck him, and Harry stuttered, "Are...are you inside my head?"

An amused voice drawled back, /_I should think that __that__ is obvious./_

Harry, now in a full-blown panic attack, was only able to gasp, "Who..._How?_"

The feeling of amusement increased, though it was now joined by consternation and mild annoyance. /_Who do you __think__ I am, Harry Potter?/_

The boy frowned in confusion, his mind racing, when a memory from his fight with Quirrel appeared in his mind. A translucent figure, furious yells, and Harry's burning scar.

"V-Voldemort!?" Harry gasped in horror. He felt as though the presence in his mind—_Voldemort_—nodded. The dark wizard then added, /_And you don't have to speak aloud. Just think what you wish to say to me. It's less conspicuous./_

Harry blinked. /_Like this?/_ he thought. He sensed the affirmative, and then thought, /_So. What are you doing in my head?/_ Harry hoped that he wasn't being possessed like Quirrel.

There was silence for a moment, and then Voldemort answered. /_I tried to possess you./_

Blinking rapidly and reminding himself that hyperventilating would _not_ help, Harry asked, /_Tried?/_

Harry sensed Voldemort's annoyance as he answered. /_Yes, tried. Unfortunately, my eviction from Quirrel's body left me weaker than I had thought./_

Harry waited for a moment, expecting Voldemort to continue. When he didn't, Harry frowned and thought to him, /_And? Why didn't you leave when you saw that you couldn't possess me?/_

If Voldemort had had a face, Harry was sure it would have been glaring at him. /_I...can't./_ the Dark Lord managed to grit out.

_/You can't what?/_ Harry asked, growing curious. His scar burned, and he could clearly sense Voldemort's anger and frustration. It was more than obvious that Voldemort did not want to reply, and the spirit's reluctance only made him that much more interested.

Eventually, the Dark Lord finally answered, /_I can't __leave__. You somehow managed to imprison me in your mind. You even succeeded in accidently taking control of my magic so I cannot force my way out of my...prison./_

Harry was stunned. /_So you're stuck here?/_

He received a grudging /_Yes./_

Harry frowned at the curt answer. He honestly thought it served Voldemort right for trying to possess him, but he wasn't about to _tell_ the Dark Lord that. /_Can you do anything to me, while you're in my head? And would an exorcism get you out?/_

Voldemort was quiet for a moment before replying. /_I am __trapped__ here. I am your prisoner, and so can do nothing without your explicit permission. Moreover, with you control over my magic, I couldn't try to take your energy or magic like I usually do with my victims./_ The spirit paused, and Harry swallowed heavily, sick at the idea of something leeching his energy or his magic away, before Voldemort continued. /_As to your second question, the answer is no. As you are the one holding me captive, you would have to personally release me. Unfortunately, to perform an act of this nature without killing both of us, you must be a master at the Mind Arts, and children under the age of fourteen are incapable of practicing even the basics of Mind Magic./_

Harry frowned in contemplation, thinking over what the dark wizard had said. Knowing Voldemort couldn't do anything without his permission enabled Harry to calm down enough to approach this problem logically. Thoughtfully, he asked, /_What about Professor Dumbledore? Might he have a way to get you out?/_

Voldemort snorted. /_Even if he did, I wouldn't allow him to try it. If Dumbledore even __suspects__ that I am trapped here, and an exorcism does not work, he would kill you in an attempt to kill me./_

Harry blanched. /_The Headmaster wouldn't do that!/_ he argued fiercely. Harry then paused as a creeping doubt filled him, and asked in a small voice, /_Would he?/_

_Without a doubt._ Voldemort grimly replied. /_For all that he acts a saint; Dumbledore is really no different from me. He just hides it under a friendly grandfather mask./_

Harry was silent. '_Maybe having a Dark Lord in my head won't be that bad,' _he thought. '_At least Voldemort's honest.'_

**HPLVHP**

Harry had begged and pleaded with Madam Pomfrey to allow his friends to visit him. He told them what had happened after he entered the Mirror room, with them gasping in horror at what Harry had faced. Hermione even shrieked when Harry described what had been under Quirrel's turban.

_/I wasn't __that__ bad looking,_ an aggravated voice commented. _And it's not as if I had a lot of choices, either, being a bodiless wraith./_

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing at Voldemort's almost sulky tone.

He later managed to convince the nurse to let him out of the infirmary just in time for the End-of-Term feast. When Dumbledore had awarded the Trio and Neville all of those last minute points, Voldemort had grumbled in his head about unfairness and manipulative old coots trying to make Harry worship them. Harry honestly agreed about the unfairness. Even if Snape gave out points unfairly, the other teachers normally balanced it out by taking points from misbehaving Slytherins, so they _had_ technically earned the Cup only for Dumbledore to take it from the Slytherins and give it to their rivals. Harry wanted to say something, but Voldemort's comment in the hospital wing about Dumbledore being just like him had absolutely terrified Harry, who was now trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

The next morning, Ron cornered him before they left their dorm.

"Hey, Harry. Can I ask you something?" Ron said, looking oddly nervous.

Harry blinked in surprise, ignoring Voldemort's snide comment about how the 'imbecilic red-head' had _already_ asked Harry a question. "Sure, Ron, what do you need?"

"Well," Ron began anxiously, "I just wanted to know if something had happened down it the chamber. Something you forgot to tell us about. I noticed that you're always listening to something. Whenever you talk to someone, it's like there's another person talking to you at the same time."

Harry froze. /_He knows!/_

_/I don't suppose you'd consider letting me Obliviate him?/_

Harry scowled. /_No! Ron's my friend. You're not just going to take away his memories!/_

"See!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at him. "You're doing it right now!"

Harry bit his lip. "I...Do you think Hermione has noticed anything?"

Ron frowned thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so. I only noticed because it happens more when you talk to me."

_/The imbecile is smarter than I thought./_ Harry choked down a laugh. "That's because he thinks you're annoying and..." Harry winced, "well, he thinks you're stupid."

Ron's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "He? He who?"

"Voldemort. He's stuck in here." Harry tapped his temple.

Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Y-You-Know-Who is _in your head?_"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he tried to possess me in the chamber, but I did some crazy accidental magic and now he's a prisoner in my head." Harry looked at Ron with pleading eyes. "It's not so bad, he can't control me or hurt me. I thought about telling you both, but Voldemort's absolutely convinced that if we tell Dumbledore, the headmaster will kill me to try and get rid of him. And...well...since he can't leave, we're in this together, and until Voldemort is out of my head he isn't going to let anything hurt me."

Ron's eyes were wide and full of fear. He had also winced every time Harry said the Dark Lord's name. "He really thinks the Headmaster would kill you?"

Harry nodded. "He said that Dumbledore is really no different from him. The Headmaster just hides his badness behind a mask."

Ron swallowed, digesting this, before clarifying, "So h-he can't do anything to you while he's stuck in your head?"

Harry smiled. "No, Ron, he can't. Voldemort can't even control his own magic, because of whatever I did." He then said in a pleading tone, "It's still me in here, Ron. I've just got company." He paused, and then begged, "_Please_ don't tell Dumbledore. Or anyone."

Ron nodded. "Okay. If he can't hurt you, or make you hurt other people, I'm alright. I won't tell."

A huge grin spread across Harry's face. He jumped up and gave his friend a hug. "Thanks Ron!" Harry hesitated, then added, "Erm...Do you think you could help me keep Hermione from finding out? I really think she _would_ go to a teacher. Hermione wouldn't understand."

Ron agreed. "Sure, I'll help. It's the least I could do for my best mate."

The two boys grinned at each other before jumping at the sound of Hermione's voice, insisting that they come down _now_ before they made her late to the train.

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**Review please for the new author!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own**

******Here is chapter two! Enjoy!**

"Talking aloud"; _'Thinking to oneself'_; _/Thinking to each other/_; :Parseltongue:

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**Book 1—Dark Allies  
**

_**Chapter 2**_

Harry sat quietly in the back of the van, occasionally glancing at his uncle's puce face. Uncle Vernon had not been happy to see Harry, and the boy now had a growing sense of foreboding. He was _terrified_ of what was going to happen when he was back at the Dursleys'. Surprisingly, Harry hadn't heard from Voldemort since leaving Hogwarts. He had honestly expected the Dark Lord to complain and make snide comments about Harry's Muggle relatives. The spirit had been quite vocal in his displeasure about being surrounded by Muggle-lovers and Gryffindors back at school.

_/Hey./_ Harry thought softly. _/Are you still in there?/_

A dry voice commented, _/It isn't as if I could be anywhere else./_

Harry strove to keep the embarrassed blush off of his face. _/Oh, um, yeah. You were just being really quiet./_ He paused for a moment, and then added for good measure, _/__Unnaturally__ quiet./_

_/Are you implying that I talk a lot?/_ Voldemort asked, sounding rather annoyed.

Harry restrained a grin. _/Well, if the shoe fits.../_ he trailed off.

An outraged voice stated, _/I do __not__ talk a lot./_

_/Of course not./_ Harry was hard-pressed to keep a condescending and mocking tone out of his mental voice._ /You've only __constantly__ been making comments about my poor choice in companions, the idiots that populate my House, and how much Hogwarts has degraded since your time there./_ Harry was rather proud of himself. He supposed that spending so much time listening to Voldemort's cutting sardonic comments had improved his own skills in sarcasm.

_/You...You.../_ The Dark Lord seemed to be practically speechless with fury.

Harry repressed a snicker. _/What? Does the truth really hurt so much?/_ He could still perceive Voldemort's simmering anger, but Harry could sense the spirit retreating, having apparently decided to give his host the cold shoulder. Harry sighed. _/Aw, come on! I was just teasing! I didn't really mean anything by it. The stuff you said was actually kind of funny./_

'_Even if he __does__ talk a lot.'_ Harry thought to himself. It had taken him a few days to get the hang of keeping his private thoughts and his conversations with Voldemort separate, but he was glad it hadn't been too hard. Three days of Voldemort hearing every thought that passed through his head had been more than enough.

The car stopped, and Harry's dread returned, his banter with Voldemort forgotten. Harry got out of the car, only to gape for a moment as he saw that Uncle Vernon had already taken his trunk out of the boot. Uncle Vernon _never_ helped Harry with _anything_. _'What is he playing at?'_

"Get inside," he growled, glaring at Harry through beady eyes. Harry followed his uncle inside the house to find him stuffing Harry's trunk and broomstick into his cupboard.

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry protested. "I need that! I have summer homework."

The obese man grinned at him nastily. "And why should that bother me? I don't care if you flunk out of that freak school."

Harry quelled more furious shouting. Uncle Vernon had obviously made his mind up, and nothing was going to change it. Unless...

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, and said "Oh, well, I just didn't think you'd want to deal with any more wiz-err...freaks. If I go back in the fall without any homework done, they'll be sure to send a letter asking why. They might even send a person here to investigate. They might do that anyway if my grades drop because I can't study over the summer."

Uncle Vernon paled before turning green and ending on a nasty gray-ish hue. Apparently his fear of more 'freaks' contaminating his precious normal home overrode his intense desire to do any- and everything to ruin Harry's life. "Fine!" he snapped. "Just your homework, though. And keep that ruddy bird quiet or I'll wring its neck" He then proceeded to stand over Harry as he hurriedly removed his schoolbooks, quill, some parchment and two bottles of ink. After he was done, Vernon threw Harry's trunk in the cupboard, locked it, and then frog-marched his nephew upstairs. He shoved Harry into his room, shutting and locking the door. Harry set Hedwig's cage on the floor and stood listening as his uncle stomped downstairs again before collapsing on the thin, ratty bed.

**LVHPLV**

Lord Voldemort was not happy with his current situation. Not only had he been_ trapped_ in the head of an average—if not mediocre, judging by his shoddy essays and grades—eleven-year-old wizard by _accident_, but said young wizard was Dumbledore's precious _Golden Boy_; the child prophesied to vanquish him.

He counted himself lucky that the dark aura in the Potter boy's scar had been strong enough to mask his presence while the boy was being healed. The Dark Lord had also been pleasantly surprised at how receptive Potter had been towards him. The child had listened to him, thought over his words logically, and then agreed with him.

Voldemort had already known that, as he was entirely dependent on the boy, he would have to play nice with him for a while. He had been surprised by how little effort it took to convince Potter of Dumbledore's duplicity, though he had also been relieved. He really was convinced that Dumbledore would sacrifice Potter if it was for the 'Greater Good', and it was _such_ a bother to have to float around as a bodiless wraith.

He had been temporarily...alarmed...(because Dark Lords _do not panic_) when the Weasley boy had figured out that something was wrong. The Dark Lord was furious that Potter hadn't allowed him to Obliviate the idiot. It infuriated him _all the more_ that he had to ask permission in the first place. Voldemort made a mental note to remind Potter to explain about Legilimency to his Weasley friend.

He had tried to remain silent after that, worried that other people might notice. Voldemort planned to coach the boy in controlling his facial expressions that summer, so that hopefully by fall no one would be able to tell when the two were conversing. Potter _had_ managed to calm him down somewhat by pointing out that Weasley had only noticed because the boy was around Potter constantly for nearly an entire year. Potter had then added that his mudblood (though Potter didn't use that _exact_ terminology) hadn't noticed anything because she 'wasn't as good at reading people as she was at reading books'.

It hadn't even occurred to him before Potter met up with his uncle that the boy lived with _Muggles_. Already on edge because of the idea of having to spend time in a _Muggle_ environment for the first time since he had turned seventeen, Potter's comments had easily enraged him. Voldemort had then been utterly bewildered by the boy's sort-of-apology. He had never had anyone tease him in a friendly manner. Any teasing in his youth had been cruel and meant to wound. Later, after he had grown more powerful, no one would have dared tease him in _any_ manner.

Harry Potter was a puzzle—that was certain. The boy should have hated Voldemort for killing his parents, and yet Potter was perfectly comfortable teasing him and joking with him. Potter appeared to be the stereotypical Gryffindor, but the trick he had pulled to get his schoolbooks into his room had been pure Slytherin.

'_Speaking of Potter's "room",' _Voldemort pulled himself out of his musings to examine his new surroundings. The so-called bedroom was practically Spartan. The only furniture was an old desk with a rickety chair, a wardrobe that had a broken door, and Potter's bed, a metal affair with a rock-hard mattress and a thin, ratty blanket. _/I had a better bed at the orphanage, and they were tight on money and tried to give the resident 'freak' all of the worst stuff./_ He then froze. _'Did I just say that where the boy could hear me?'_

Potter, who had been organizing his books on his desk and deciding which assignment to start on first, abruptly froze in his work. Voldemort then heard the tentative question, _/You grew up in a Muggle orphanage?/_

'_Shit. I did.'_ He then hesitated, and answered, _/Yes. I grew up during the thirties and forties./_

Harry blinked. _/Oh./_ He paused awkwardly and said, _/Is that why you hate Muggles so much? Because of how they treated you when you were a kid?/_

Voldemort sighed. _/Partially./_ Then, trying to steer the subject away from his childhood and reasons for hating Muggles, he asked,_ /Are you going to be locked in here all summer?/_

Harry shook his head, and then clarified, _/Not really. I do a lot of the chores. I'll be stuck in here whenever I'm not working, though./_ Harry then asked rather impishly, _/Hey, since you don't have anything better to do, could you help me with my homework?/_

Voldemort snorted. _/Cheeky brat./_

'_I might be stuck here for the next few years, but at least the boy's not __completely__ intolerable.'_

**HPLVHP**

Harry sat staring intensely at the bush he could have sworn had eyeballs a moment ago. _/What do __you__ think that was?/_

_/Perhaps it was a wizarding fan that discovered your address and wants to wish you a happy birthday./_ A dry voice answered him.

Harry snorted. _/Merlin forbid. The last thing I need is a stalker./_

"I know what day it is," the two heard a familiar voice jeer. Harry turned to see Dudley waddling toward him. Voldemort's sardonic voice commented. _/I wonder what the pig is referring to; has he finally learned the days of the week, or is that too much to hope for?/_

Despite Harry's amusement, only the barest traces of the laughter inside him appeared on his face. Voldemort had been teaching him how to hide his emotions, explaining that it would prevent anyone else from becoming suspicious like Ron had. After four weeks of near-constant practice, Voldemort claimed he was at the same level of proficiency as the average ten-year-old pureblood heir.

"_I_ know what _day_ it is!" Dudley reiterated, annoyed at being ignored.

"**Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."**

"**Today's your **_**birthday**_**," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you any friends at that freak place?"**

"**Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said Harry coolly.**

**Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.**

"**Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.**

"**I'm trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire," said Harry** a bit vindictively.

**Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.**

"**You c-can't—Dad told you you're not to do m-magic—he said he'll chuck you out of the house—and you haven't got anywhere else to go—you haven't got any **_**friends**_** to take you—"**

"_**Jiggery pokery!**_**" said Harry in a fierce voice** as Voldemort laughed uproariously at the sheer terror in Dudley's voice. **"**_**Hocus pocus**_**—**_**squiggly wiggly**_**—"**

Dudley then went screaming for his mum, with Harry finally giving in and joining Voldemort in laughter. Later, while he was working on the chores Aunt Petunia had set him in retaliation to his stunt, Harry remarked to the Dark Lord, _/Dudley is kind of right, though. I haven't heard from any of my friends all summer. Honestly, if you weren't stuck here with me, I might have started thinking that Hogwarts had been a dream./_

_/Someone most likely just set up post wards around the house./_ Voldemort replied. Harry had a feeling that if the Dark Lord had had a face he would have been rolling his eyes.

Harry frowned in confusion. _/Post wards?/_

Voldemort seemed to nod. _/The wizarding world considers you a savior. You're bound to have fan mail and such. Haven't you ever wondered how you could be so famous and yet no one ever wrote you a letter, never sent an autograph request?/_

Harry was dumbly silent, his hands working mechanically. _/I guess I never thought about it. Where would it all go, though?/_

Voldemort answered immediately. _/The owls would either be redirected to a vault at Gringotts set up for that purpose, or they would be sent to the person who set the ward up./_

Harry sneered at that. _/Three guesses who, considering the Ministry has no idea where I'm living, according to the research you and Quirrel did on me, and who Hagrid claims left me with the Dursleys./_

_/Indeed./_ the spirit agreed. _/Dumbledore does seem the most likely to have set up wards around your house./_

Harry exhaled, scowling in aggravation. _/My life is insane. How is it that I had the two most powerful wizards of the age involved in my life before my second birthday?/_

Voldemort was silent for a moment before answering him.

_/The winter before you were born, one of my newer Death Eaters—/_ he stopped, and in reply to Harry's confusion at the term, he clarified, _/The Death Eaters were my followers. Now, in the December before you were born, a Death Eater came to me with the news that he had overheard part of a prophecy concerning me./_

Harry quickly interrupted. _/You mean prophecies exist?/_

_/Yes, they do. The Death Eater explained that he had been having a drink at a pub in the village beside Hogwarts when a woman walked in. She strode over to the barman, announcing herself to be Sibyl Trelawny, great-granddaughter to the famous seer Cassandra Trelawny, and the barman directed her to an upstairs room. My Death Eater followed her to the upstairs room, where he learned that Trelawny was being interviewed for the post of Divination Professor at Hogwarts by Dumbledore./_

Harry frowned in confusion. _/He was holding a __job_ _interview__ in a __pub__? Did you ever think that your prophecy might be a fake?/_

_/Of course I did!/_ Voldemort snapped. _/An Unspeakable—they record and study prophecies, among other things—who was loyal to me looked over the memory, and he insisted that it was genuine./_

Harry huffed. _/Oh./_ He hesitated, and then asked,_ /What did it say?/_

The Dark Lord sighed. _/I only ever heard the first few lines, but it spoke of a boy born at the end of July to parents who had defied me three times; a child who would have the power to vanquish me. There were two children found who fit that criteria: a boy named Neville Longbottom…and you./_

Harry was quiet while the spirit described the prophecy to him. He really didn't know how to feel. Voldemort was so powerful and clever—how could it be _him_ who was destined to defeat the darkest wizard in centuries? When Voldemort had finished speaking, Harry asked softly, _/Why me? Why didn't you see Neville as the worse threat? I mean, if you look at him now, you would know that he's no hero, but I'm not either! Why did you choose to come after __me__?/_

Voldemort didn't answer for a moment. He almost seemed uncomfortable with his answer. _/I suppose…I suppose I chose you because you were more like me./_

Harry, not knowing how to reply to that, finished his work in silence. That evening, once he was finished, Aunt Petunia hurried Harry up to his room, reminding him that he was to remain absolutely silent. Harry, however, froze upon entering the room at the sight of a strange creature standing on his bed.

He felt Voldemort's curiosity and surprise. _/That's a house-elf. They are servants in wizarding households./_

Harry's eyes widened at the spirit's quiet comment. The creature—_house-elf_—bowed to him, introducing himself as Dobby the house-elf and stating what an honor it was to meet "Mr. Harry Potter sir". "Erm..." Harry stuttered, "It's nice to meet you too. Uh, what are you doing here?"

The house-elf seemed astonished at Harry's polite tone, but said, "Dobby has come to warn Mr. Harry Potter sir about a great danger."

"Danger?" Harry parroted. "What kind of danger?"

"It is...difficult to explain, Harry Potter. Dobby wonders where he should begin..."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Well, if it's going to take a while, you might as well sit down," he said, gesturing to the bed as he sat on the desk chair. "Make yourself comfortable."

Harry became quite alarmed when his words caused the little elf to begin bawling. _/Shut him up; house-elves are required to follow the instructions of a person living in a house they visit./_

Harry nodded unconsciously, and said sternly, "Dobby, be quiet!" Dobby was startled into silence. "Now, while you're here you have to follow my rules, correct?" As the house-elf opened his mouth, Harry hastily added, "Just nod or shake your head." Dobby nodded.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, well, the rules of my house are that you have to remain as quiet as possible, but you are allowed to sit on the bed."

Voldemort interjected, _/They also punish themselves when they believe that they have disobeyed a master's order./_

Concealing a frown at that statement, Harry added, "You are also not allowed to punish yourself without my permission. Understand?"

Dobby replied in a passable whisper, "Dobby understands sir. Mr. Harry Potter sir is a most kind and noble wizard."

Blushing, Harry stammered, "Okay..." He then looked at Dobby with an expectant expression. "Explain what you're doing here."

Harry listened as the house-elf told him that there was a "plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts". Dobby couldn't tell him much, as he apparently had orders against that, but what he did tell Harry was worrying. The house-elf insisted that he stay here and not leave for Hogwarts this year. Dobby's cryptic comments about dark magic and the danger not being Voldemort _specifically_ were also worrying. However, his unease changed to anger when Dobby admitted to stopping his post.

"Give. Me. Back. My. Letters." Harry gritted out, trying his best to keep from shouting.

The house-elf responded with a sharp "NO!" and fled the room. Harry followed Dobby seething with fury. His outrage quickly became sheer terror when he saw the horrid little _gremlin_ levitating his aunt's pudding.

"Dobby, don't do it! Please!" Harry begged in a petrified whisper. "They'll kill me!"

Dobby gave Harry a tragic look. "Dobby is sorry sir, but Dobby must do it for Harry Potter's own good." With that the house-elf released the levitation charm and disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

His relatives and the Masons rushed in, having heard the noise as the platter fell. Harry had managed to keep the glass platter from shattering, but he was covered in pudding. Aunt Petunia set him to work cleaning up, and at first it appeared that Uncle Vernon would manage to smooth the whole thing over (**Just our nephew—very disturbed—meeting strangers upsets him, so we kept him upstairs...**). then the owl arrived. Mrs. Mason fled the house, her husband only staying long enough to explain that his wife was terrified of birds and asking if this was the Dursleys' idea of a practical joke. Then he was gone as well.

The moment the Masons had left, Vernon brandished a letter in Harry's face. "Read it!" he growled. Harry opened it with shaking hands. It was from the Ministry for Magic, explaining that under-aged magic had been detected at his home and this was his first official warning.

"You forgot to mention you weren't allowed to use magic outside of school," Uncle Vernon said in a dangerous voice, "Slipped your mind, I daresay... "

Harry stared at his uncle, petrified. He had never seen him look so unhinged and terrifying. Vernon grabbed Dudley's Smelting's stick before dragging him upstairs, talking to him in that terrifyingly calm voice the whole way. "I've had enough of this freakishness, I tell you, and I've had enough of _you_!"

When they reached Harry's bedroom, the furious man threw him down, kicking him and beating him with the Smelting's stick. Harry heard the snapping of broken bones as his uncle released his fury, and Harry's last thought was to wonder what would happen to Voldemort if Harry's body died.

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**A cliffie on chapter two! I'm evil. :) By the way, all bolded segments are from the books. (In this case, CoS.)**

**Reviews are food to a hungry author's muses! Please feed the poor dears!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do I look blonde, rich, and British to you? (says the brunette middle-class American) :)**

**Okay, Q&A time!**

**A guest reviewer asked me if Harry was being too trusting; taking what LV says at face value; etc.**

**My answer is no, he isn't taking what LV says at face value. I might not have made this clear, but while Voldie is stuck in Harry's head, they can both feel every little emotion from the other. They can also both sense if the other is lying to them(yes, even Harry). There's not much privacy in the mind.**

**Justpucky asked me why Harry didn't order Dobby to put the pudding down when he knew that the house-elf had to obey him, to an extent. Short answer: Harry panicked and forgot. Harry's also so used to being the one _given_ orders that he really only gave Dobby the orders that he did because Voldie prompted him to.  
**

**Speech:** "Talking aloud"; _'Thinking to oneself'_; _/Thinking to each other/_; :Parseltongue:

**When the twins are speaking in turns:** "Fred"; "_George_"

**Now... Story Time!**

* * *

As Harry lost consciousness, Voldemort almost felt as if he was being pushed forward, taking the boy's place. Thankfully, the Muggle monstrosity beating Potter's near-dead body left only shortly afterward.

Voldemort lay still for a moment in Harry's broken body. The boy was still there, and still in control of his magic, but Harry wasn't in control of his body. The Dark Lord concentrated on sitting up, assessing the damage. _'A broken leg, the bones in his right arm are practically shattered, what feels like multiple broken—or at least fractured—ribs, and he probably has a concussion as well, judging by my headache and his lack of consciousness. __And__ he's bleeding out. That damn Muggle really wanted Harry to die.'_ The Dark Lord didn't even notice that he had referred to the boy as Harry in his thoughts.

'_And the child will certainly die if he doesn't receive the right medical treatment soon.'_ Voldemort stood up slowly, leaning heavily on the desk. _'Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say.'_

He scrabbled one-handedly for a piece of paper and a Muggle pencil. The man finally managed to scratch out a message, painfully aware of the smudges of blood covering the parchment. He expertly opened the cage with a tiny burst of magic. _'I may not have control of my magic, but it's a good thing I have partial access to Harry's.'_

"Here, Hedwig," he whispered, glad he remembered the bird's name. "You have to take this to We-Ron. Quickly now."

The bird regarded him for a moment, then took the scrap of parchment in her beak and exited the cage, flying out of the window. Voldemort stood watching her fade into the distance as a dizzying sensation of relief overcame him and he collapsed on the bed.

**DMHPDM**

At the same time, an old wizard sat dozing at a cluttered desk when he was suddenly awakened by a shrill alarm. He jumped up in agitation, looking over a strange little device which was currently whirling around shrieking, its surface a sickly orange, flickering occasionally to red, instead of the usual pale yellowish-green. Dumbledore threw a handful of green powder into his fireplace and stuck his head into it. After a moment, he pulled his head back out of the emerald flames and a dour man clad all in black stepped through the Floo.

"What is it, Albus?" Severus Snape asked aggravated. "What's this emergency?"

Albus looked solemn. "Harry Potter has been injured. He seems to still be at the Dursley residence, and I need you to retrieve him while I wake Poppy. You need to hurry, Severus." With that, he swept out of the office, leaving the grumbling man to run down out of the castle to the nearest Apparation point.

**DMLVDM**

Ron was hiding from the twins when the white snowy owl found him.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed in amazement. Ron took the scrap of parchment from her, read it through once, and then went so pale his freckles stood out is sharp relief.

A voice made him jump. "_Well, well, I wonder what has ickle Ronnikiens_—"

"—so very frightened?"

Ron looked up to see his older twin brothers, and practically jumped on them in his panic. "Guys, you've got to help me! I just got a letter from Harry saying that his uncle tried to kill him. He thinks he's gonna die!"

The grins slid off of Fred and George's faces. "We'll have to use Dad's car. _It's good that he's out late again—he'll never notice._"

The trio raced to their garage, climbing into the Angelia Ford. As Fred lifted off, George turned to Ron, who was still slightly in shock, and asked, "Do you know Harry's address?"

Ron nodded. "He lives at Number Four, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey. But how are you going to find your way? I don't know how to get from here to Surrey!"

"Watch and learn, little brother," Fred said smoothly. He tapped the steering wheel with his wand, saying in a commanding voice, "Find Surrey." The car started off on a completely different course than the one Fred had been driving. He smirked at Ron. "Now, when the wheel glows, I just tell it to find Little Whinging, and so on."

After a few minutes of quiet, George asked Ron, "Can we see the letter?" Ron hesitated, and then handed it over.

_Ronald Weasley,_

_Harry's uncle just tried to kill him, and he's unconscious right now. We're bleeding out and badly injured—I don't know how long he has. Get help, and fast._

_Harry's Companion_

George frowned after reading the letter aloud. "I thought you said Harry wrote this," he said slowly. "Who's 'Harry's Companion'?"

Ron stared down at the seat, before apparently making up his mind and gazing at his brothers with a hard look in his eyes. "I'll tell you, but you've got to both swear you won't repeat it to anyone—ever! Harry thinks that he might be killed if anyone finds this out."

Fred and George exchanged glances. "_That sounds_—"

"—quite serious. But we don't want Harry dead—

"—_so we promise to keep your secret._"

Ron exhaled slowly. "Okay, do you guys know what happened with Harry and Quirrel?"

Fred grinned. "Sure! Didn't he keep Quirrel from stealing some magical artifact?" He noticed the steering wheel glowing, and quietly muttered, "Find Little Whinging."

Nodding, Ron replied, "Yeah, but that's not the whole story. You see, Quirrel was being possessed by You-Know-Who. Harry has some protective magic on him that turned Quirrel to ash when the git tried to strangle him, but You-Know-Who didn't die when Quirrel did. He tried to possess Harry."

The twins paled, asking questions simultaneously, "You mean Harry's possessed? _What do you mean by 'tried'?_"

Ron laughed rather nervously. "No, You-Know-Who isn't possessing him. Harry said that he did some crazy accidental magic and trapped You-Know-Who in a sort of mental prison. You-Know-Who can't control Harry, but he can't leave or do magic either. The letter said '_we_ are badly injured'. I think he wrote the letter."

George whistled, staring at Ron. "That's quite something. Wait, hang on; if You-Know-Who can't control Harry, then how did he write that letter?"

Ron frowned. "You know; I'm not sure. He did say that Harry was unconscious. Maybe he _can_ control Harry's body, but only when Harry isn't controlling it."

Fred interrupted. "Hey, Ron, where did you say Harry's neighborhood was?"

"Privet Drive," Ron answered promptly. "Are we nearly there?"

Fred nodded, tapping the steering wheel and relaying the directions once again. "Yeah. We're nearly there. He lives at Number 4, right?"

"Yes." Ron hesitated, and then continued "Once we get him, should we bring Harry home, or use the 'find' thing to get to St. Mungo's?"

The twins glanced at one another again. "Let's see how badly off he is, first."

Ron nodded, a lump suddenly rising in his throat as apprehension and dread overcame him. _'What if we don't get there in time?'_

**DMHPDM**

Severus Snape was furious. Albus had ordered him to check on the Potter brat, but the doddering old fool had _completely forgotten_ to give Severus a port-key, and it had also slipped his mind that Severus could not apparate to Privet Drive without ever having been there. The dour man was merely grateful that he had made a habit of travelling the Muggle way to avoid detection, as he had stopped in the Little Whinging train station before.

He had been walking through the town for nearly half an hour with no sight of a neighborhood by the name of Privet Drive, cursing both Albus and the Potter boy the entire time. His insults were getting rather creative and bloody by the time he had a brainwave. _'Hang on—'_ Snape paused as an idea struck him. _'Didn't Albus have a squib agent posted near Potter's house? What was her name? Finn? No…maybe Phil…Fogg…Frigg…Figg! That was it, Arabella Figg!'_

He placed his wand flat on his palm and whispered _–Point me Arabella Figg- 'If this doesn't work I don't know what I'll do to find the boy, but I do know I'm going to kill Albus.'_ The wizard then began walking briskly in the direction his wand was pulling him. It was good she was only a block away from him, as the spell stopped working after a one mile radius. After frightening the life out of Mrs. Figg and obtaining the directions to Potter's house from her, Snape set off once again.

Privet Drive was thankfully only a block over from the obnoxious squib's house. Severus sneered at the sight of the identical cookie-cutter houses. When he reached the door of house No. 4, he whispered a quiet _–Alohamora-_.

Opening the door cautiously, he stepped into the darkened house. All was quiet, and there didn't appear to be anything wrong. Casting _Homenium Revelio_ only indicated that there were living people here in the house. He stood in the sitting room, utterly bewildered. _'Was it just a false alarm, or did I come too late? Damn Albus!'_ Severus thought furiously.

He held his wand out again, whispering _–Point me Harry Potter-_. The wand spun lazily in his hand, pointing toward the stairwell. Scowling at the confirmation that Potter really was in the house, Snape slowly ascended the stairs, clutching his wand. He paused at the first door on the second floor upon hearing hushed voices. _–Audio-_ he murmured, the whispers becoming clear.

"Ron! You idiot; what did you levitate him for? I thought we said no magic!"

Severus frowned at the familiar voice. _'What are the Weasley boys doing here?'_

"This isn't the time to argue! I was afraid we'd make his injuries worse moving him ourselves. I'm sure Mum will understand! Now—are we bringing him home or straight to St. Mungo's?"

Severus had heard enough. Opening the door, he drawled, "If Potter is that badly injured, he needs to see a healer, not you mother!"

All three red-headed boys jumped in alarm. "Professor Snape!" Severus took in the scene. The twin Weasleys were standing defensively in front of Potter's body, which was being levitated by the younger boy. He could see a car hovering outside the window, and nearly groaned._ 'Of course they would have a flying car...'_

Before he could say anything else, one of the twins exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Snape glowered. "One of Albus' alarms connected to Potter's life-force went off and he sent me to investigate," he said in aggravation. "Now let me see him!"

The twin menaces slowly retreated. Severus' eyes widened at the sight that he was confronted with. Even before using a diagnostic charm, it was obvious that Potter was almost at death's door. Poppy wasn't qualified to treat injuries of this magnitude. He immediately took charge. "You three return to your home; I'll get Potter to St. Mungo's."

The youngest Weasley's face took on a stubborn cast. "I'm not leaving Harry," he declared. And as his professor opened his mouth to argue, Ron added, "There's not time to argue. Harry really needs healing, sir. You can take us both to the hospital, and Fred and George can get Harry's stuff, fly the car home, and explain what's going on to Mum."

Snape closed his mouth. What the boy had said was logical, and it was more than obvious he wouldn't be swayed. "Fine!" he snapped. "Come, there are anti-apparition wards on the house." Severus stalked out of the room, Ron levitating Harry after him.

The twins didn't move until they had heard the faint tell-tale *CRACK* of apparition. "Right!" George said, "Let's get cracking!"

The two tossed everything in the room into Harry's open trunk. They then loaded it into the car, Fred grabbing Hedwig's cage on the way out.

Upon arriving at the Burrow, the two raced into the house only to run straight into their mother. They gulped at the expression on her face, but hastily began explaining before she could begin her impending rant.

"_Ron got a letter from Harry!_"

"His uncle tried to kill him!"

"_We were just trying to help_—"

"—Harry really did look like he was going to die."

"_Yeah. There was blood everywhere. Anyway, Professor Snape turned up_—"

"—and he took Harry to St. Mungo's. Ron insisted on going with him."

"_The professor sent us home to tell you what was going on._"

Molly's eyes widened. "So you were trying to help Harry?" The boys nodded. "And Ron went with Professor Snape to the hospital?" They nodded again. She exhaled slowly. Molly had been startled when she heard the car Arthur had been tinkering with start. She had run out of the house just in time to see the car flying—_flying_—away over the trees. Just as Molly had identified the passengers of the car to be her three youngest sons, it had vanished with a shimmer that spoke of invisibility charms.

She had been absolutely infuriated, and had planned to lecture both Arthur (when he was home from work) and the boys. But now—learning that they had only done it to save someone—she didn't know what to think. Molly decided that it would be better to determine if Harry really _had_ been in danger of dying before she let them off the hook. Boys were prone to exaggerating, after all, though she knew that with Professor Snape's involvement the child had most likely truly been injured.

"Right, then," she said briskly, "you two head on up to bed. I'll go get Ronnie and check on Harry's condition." The twins nodded, walking slowly up the stairs. Molly walked to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and throwing it down as she called out her destination.

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!"

**DMHPDM**

Severus stood scowling in a corner. He had apparated with Potter and the Weasley boy to the emergency section of St. Mungo's. Then, the professor had summarized as briefly as possible what had happened to the injured boy, before two attendants whisked him away. Now he was stuck in a hospital waiting room with a twelve-year-old Weasley. The boy was tapping his foot on the ground.

Severus glared and snapped at him "Would you stop that infernal tapping?!"

Weasley blushed and stopped, but retorted, "I can't help it; I'm too worried about Harry. What if we were too late? What if he never wakes up? I just..." he looked away and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

Snape sighed. It was natural for the boy to be worried, he knew, especially after actually witnessing his friend's condition, but did he really have to release his agitation in such an irritating manner? "Potter will be fine, Weasley. The healers know what they are doing."

Weasley, to his surprise, simply nodded instead of arguing. He then opened his mouth to speak again. "Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"How... how could Harry's uncle do that to him? I knew his relatives didn't like magic, but to nearly kill him... and on his birthday too..."

Severus blinked. '_It's Potter's birthday?'_ "Sometimes, Mr. Weasley, when a person is scared of something, they lash out at it, especially if whomever they fear is only a defenseless little boy."

The boy scowled and muttered under his breath, "It doesn't make it right."

Snape inclined his head in agreement as the door was forcefully opened. The two looked up to see Molly Weasley standing in the doorway.

"Ronnie! There you are! Oh... Hello Professor Snape." She smiled at him. "I hope Ron wasn't too much trouble."

He stood, shaking his head. "Mr. Weasley was much better behaved than he is in my class, certainly. You have come to retrieve him, I presume?"

Molly nodded. "Yes." She hesitated, and then continued. "I suppose that Fred and George weren't exaggerating, then?"

"No." he firmly replied. "Potter was nearly dead. That was why I brought him here, instead of handing the boy over to Poppy." Severus then grimaced. "Albus is going to raise hell over this, though. Besides a patronus, I haven't told him anything yet."

The Weasley boy interrupted them. "Why would the Headmaster be upset about Harry going to the hospital?"

Snape eyed him. "Albus has always been averse to letting other healers near Potter. As far as I know, when the Potters were attacked that Halloween, the only healer Potter saw was Madam Pomfrey."

Ron frowned, but said nothing more, at least until his mother told him, "Come on, Ron dear. You need to get to bed."

The red-headed boy turned toward her furiously. "I don't want to leave Harry!"

Seeing Mrs. Weasley's face turning red, Severus quickly interceded. "Perhaps your mother will bring you to visit him tomorrow if you return home without complaint now. Potter should be out of Emergency by then."

Heaving a sigh, Mrs. Weasley said, "I guess that would be alright. But only if you come home straight away with no more fussing!"

As the two Weasleys walked out, Severus sighed. It was time to face Albus, now.

**DMHPDM**

The old man was glaring at him as Severus walked into the room. "Why," he asked in a tight voice, "did you feel it necessary to take Harry to St. Mungo's? Poppy could have easily treated him her—"

"Treated him here?" Severus whispered, enraged. "I told you in the patronus that Potter's wounds were too great for Poppy. He needed professional healing, not medi-witch magic!" He paused, gazing at Albus curiously. "Why have you always been so adamant that Poppy treat him, anyway? He certainly should have seen a Healer after the Stone fiasco, and perhaps an Unspeakable to be checked over for Dark curses."

The Headmaster sighed. "After Harry was hit with the killing curse, I examined him for residual Dark magic. What I found horrified me." He gazed solemnly at Severus who, not in any mood to deal with Albus's theatrics, gestured impatiently for the old man to continue. Albus sighed again, and complied. "I believe that Voldemort" Severus twitched "meddled in some of the darkest magic known to mankind. I am nearly certain that he inadvertently turned Harry into a horcrux."

Severus paled. "What?"

Albus gazed at him. "I did not wish him to be treated at St. Mungo's because if my hunch is correct, Harry will have to die for Voldemort to be defeated, and I had no desire for that to become public knowledge."

Snape stared at him. "You... surely you were not planning to have the boy die, Albus?"

The old man looked away. "If he is truly a horcrux, then it is the only way."

Severus simply nodded numbly, walking out of Dumbledore's office down to his dungeons. Albus intended to have Potter dead. Severus sincerely hoped that Potter wasn't a horcrux, because if he was, then the boy he had sworn to protect with his life was a dead child walking. _Lily's son_ was a dead child walking. Severus shuddered. He intended to get thoroughly plastered when he reached his quarters. And then he would decide what to do about Potter.

* * *

**Did Dumbledore overplay his hand? What will Severus do now? Will Harry fully recover?**

**Hey, since I can't entirely decide what to do 'bout Sevvie, I'm holding a vote. The options are Severus helping Harry, or him deciding he hates Potters more than he loves Lily and staying on Dumbles' side.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I just enjoy messing with his head.**

**I would apologize for not updating for such a long time, but it was because of Real Life, so I won't. I would have much preferred writing this instead of studying for finals anyway.**

**Speech:** "Talking aloud"; _'Thinking to oneself'_; _/Thinking to each other/_; :Parseltongue:

**Here's Chapter 4!**

* * *

It was dark and warm. He felt as if he were floating in a cloud of blackness.

/_Potter, you need to wake up._/

He frowned upon hearing a familiar voice. He needed to wake up? Why? It was so much more peaceful here.

/_I know you can hear me! Wake __now__!_/

Harry wanted to protest that he didn't feel like waking up, but he couldn't move. The voice continued yelling and calling to him, growing louder and louder.

/_Harry James Potter, if you don't wake up right now I'm going to cruciate you until you're even more of a babbling moron than you usually are!_/ The agitated voice—Voldemort, he suddenly remembered—cursed. /_NOW, Harry!_/

He bolted upright. Looking around, Harry saw that he was in a white room, lying on a pristine bed. A tall, blurry, greenish figure entered his vision. "Ah, you're awake. Good." The person handed him his glasses, which had been lying on a table beside him.

Putting them on, Harry examined his surroundings more thoroughly. The white room greatly resembled a muggle hospital, only without all the beeping machines. Harry looked back to the man who had handed him his glasses, noting that the stranger was dressed in lime green robes with a strange symbol embroidered on the shoulder. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The man smiled gently at him. "You're at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, though most people never take the time to say the whole thing. And as for me, well, I'm the resident night Healer. The name's Adrian Greengrass."

Harry stared blankly. "It's still night?" Then, "I'm in a _wizarding_ hospital?"

Healer Greengrass smiled at him in a friendly way. " It's technically morning; the clock says three thirty. Yes, you are in a wizarding hospital. I assume you've never heard of it before?"

Harry nodded dumbly. "What am I doing here, though?"

The man's expression grew serious. "What's the last thing you remember, Harry?"

Harry gazed down at his hands clutching the white sheets. "I...uh...well... Uncle Vernon got a letter because that house-elf made it look like I did magic—"

The healer's eyes widened. "What do you mean? A house-elf performed the Hover charm?"

Looking up, Harry nodded again. "Was that what that spell was? I thought it was a levitation charm," he explained sheepishly.

Healer Greengrass smiled. "Well, you'll need to mention that to the auror that comes by later."

Harry frowned, opening his mouth to ask the man what an auror was. /_An auror is a cross between a wizarding investigator and a soldier. An auror would be sent to question you to try and figure out what happened last night._/ Harry closed his mouth, saying in reply to the healer's questioning look, "Never mind."

Healer Greengrass looked curious, but he didn't pursue it. "What else do you remember?"

Harry looked pointedly down at his sheets again, picking at a loose thread. "Uncle Vernon tried to kill me," he murmured. It was only just sinking in. Even though Harry had always know his uncle absolutely hated him—the feeling was quite mutual—Harry had never imagined that Uncle Vernon would actually try to kill him. He had thought that his uncle was too obsessed with being 'normal' to ever try something so drastic.

"It's alright, Harry." His head shot up, startled, having forgotten that the healer was there. The man smiled at him in a comforting manner. "They'll probably go through Muggle courts, but your relatives will be prosecuted. You won't have to go back there."

Harry gaped. _'Not go back to the Dursleys'?'_ Swallowing, he asked in bewilderment, "But where will I go? I thought they were my only relatives."

Healer Greengrass laughed. "They might be your only close relatives, but you father was a pureblooded wizard, and most British purebloods are related somehow. I know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy's wife is your...second or third cousin" he paused here to smirk at Harry's distasteful expression upon this revelation, "and a great-something Potter aunt of yours married into the Nott family, and another into the Bones. Merlin! You and I are probably distant cousins, if you look far enough back."

Harry was gaping dumbly again. /_I have family in the wizarding world?_/

Voldemort snickered in the back of his mind. /_Of course. As Greengrass said, nearly all British pureblooded wizards are related. Honestly, you and I probably share blood as well. It's rather unavoidable with a pureblood as a parent._/

Harry shook his head. "Wow. Just...wow. I'm not sure how happy I am to hear I'm related to _Malfoy_, but..."

The healer watched him curiously. "I suppose you dislike the Malfoys, then."

Harry snorted. "Yeah—well, I've never met his parents, but Draco's a smarmy prat of a bully. He wouldn't stop insulting my friends and my parents during school."

The man laughed outright at that. "I heard much the same thing from Daphne," the healer said with a grin. "I was in the same year as Lucius, and my wife was in Narcissa's class. While Lucius is a slightly more refined and tactful version of his son, Narcissa is actually a delightful woman, and she never openly approved of her husband's choice in master during the war. Even if you don't end up in her custody, I would suggest writing to her if you want some wizarding family."

Harry blinked at the information overload. "That sound like a good idea," he said with a slight smile before hesitantly asking, "Who's Daphne?"

"She's my daughter. Daphne is actually in your year at school, even though since she was a Slytherin I doubt you ever actually spoke with her. House rivalries are quite strong."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion before nodding. "I remember her. I thought it was odd because she and this boy—Zabini, I think—never hung around Malfoy, and all the other Slytherins seemed to worship him."

The healer laughed again. "The other children follow Draco because the Malfoys are one of the most powerful Families in Britain. They also became the leader of the Dark Party when the Lord of House Black died."

Harry blinked, confused again. "Dark Party?"

Healer Greengrass hesitated, confusion flashing briefly through his eyes, and then nodded. "The British Wizarding Court is the Wizengamot—it's rather like Muggle Parliament, only it doubles as a jury. The Wizengamot is split into three political parties—Light, Dark, and Neutral. The three parties vote on laws and such. Currently, the House of Longbottom heads the Light Party, and the House of Malfoy heads the Dark," He explained.

"Neville's family is in government?" Harry exclaimed in astonishment. "But he doesn't act like Malfoy at all!" Healer Greengrass began chuckling. Then, noticing the omission, Harry asked, "What about the Neutral Party?"

The healer pinned him with a hard look. "What about it?"

Harry frowned, asking, "Who heads that Party?"

Still looking at him oddly, Healer Greengrass said slowly, "The House of Potter traditionally leads the Neutral Party, though it has been acting very Light for the past few years."

Harry stared. "What?" Shaking his head, Harry said in bewilderment, "_My_ family was in government? Wait—" he suddenly looked up as the tail end of the healer's statement sunk in. "What do you mean 'House of Potter...has been acting very Light'?"

Healer Greengrass frowned, looking rather annoyed. "I mean that your proxy has been siding with the Light Party on a great deal of issues—and passing new laws using your name and your votes."

"My _proxy_? _What_ proxy?"

The healer sat up straighter, still eyeing him in disbelief. "Your magical guardian. He's been using your votes for years. Surely you knew?"

Harry shook his head, becoming agitated. "No. I-I didn't even know I _had_ any votes. I didn't know how the government worked, much less that _I _was supposed to be voting in it!" It was incredibly unsettling, knowing that someone had been passing laws in his name, no matter what kind of laws they were. "Wha-what's a magical guardian?"

The man gaped at him, shaken. "_What's a magical—_you don't know what a magical guardian is?"

"N-no. I've never even heard of one before. Should I have?" Harry had an increasing sense of foreboding. He watched the healer, who had now begun pacing, outrage visible in every step, begin to murmur to himself. Harry wondered why he was so furious.

/_He has reason to be furious!_/ Voldemort suddenly burst out. /_Someone told me what magical guardians were when I was eleven. It's the law. Every magical child living in the Muggle world must have a wizard guardian who sees to their well-being. For most Muggleborns, a teacher is assigned, or a classmate's parent. I actually had Professor Flitwick as my magical guardian. As a wizard-born child, you guardian should have visited every year since your placing in that Muggle hell-hole. Besides, if you've never met your magical guardian, then that person has been illegally voting with your seats and name._/

Healer Greengrass suddenly stopped pacing, turning to Harry. "If you'll excuse me, Harry, I have a crime to report. I suggest you getting back to sleep." He then spun around and walked out the door, his back still rigid with suppressed anger.

**DMHPDM**

Adrian Greengrass had never been so infuriated in his life. Adrian had been horrified to discover that Heir Potter was hospitalized due to injuries inflicted on him by his own family. He had enjoyed the small talk with Harry, and the chance to see the vaunted Boy-Who-Lived up close.

Harry's bewilderment had been amusing at first, though Adrian had been startled that the boy had never heard of St. Mungo's. Harry's reaction to recalling his uncle's abuse had been surprising as well. He hadn't looked at all distressed at the fact that his own flesh and blood had tried to kill him—more subdued and ashamed than anything. Adrian made a mental note to inform the investigating auror of Heir Potter's comments about a house-elf. He was sure Shaklebolt would find that as interesting as he had.

What had also been interesting was Heir Potter's lack of knowledge concerning his wizarding roots. Sure, the boy didn't have any incredibly close relatives, but Narcissa Malfoy was his second cousin, and Amelia Bones was his cousin-once-removed, not to mention the dozens of distant cousins from the Black family.

That oddity, however, paled in comparison to what Adrian had learned just afterwards. The idea that a person was taking advantage of a war orphan—a boy responsible for their peace, at that—was galling. What was even more galling was the fact that Adrian had overheard _that person_ assuring many people that he had Harry's permission and Harry was fully in support of whatever bill or law he was voting on at the time. He had been furious, knowing that he—that all of them—had allowed this injustice against a _child_, and an ally of House Greengrass, at that.

Healer Greengrass's expression grew grim. Harry's alleged _proxy_ was going to learn why it did not pay to double-cross House Potter. Adrian was sure that the other Neutral Houses would be _very_ interested in learning about the crimes against the most powerful member of their Party. A smile hovered over his lips as he Floo'd to the ministry, not even stopping to remove his healer's robes. Oh, yes. They would show Albus Dumbledore what happened when you angered the allies of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter.

**HPLVHP**

/_That was abrupt._/ Harry thought to Voldemort, watching as the Healer's lime green robes whipped around the corner.

/_Indeed._/ the spirit replied dryly.

Harry hesitated, then asked, /_So, what happened after I lost consciousness? How did I get __here__?_/

Voldemort heaved a sigh. /_The walrus left shortly after you did. When you fell unconscious, I found myself in control of your body._/

/_WHAT?_/

/_Calm down,_/ he said irritably, /_It's actually a good thing. That means if you are ever knocked out in a fight I can still get us out of trouble. Of course, it would have been better if I could access you magic as well. As it was, I barely managed to unlock Hedwig's cage._/ Sensing the unspoken question, the dark wizard continued. /_I wrote a short note and sent Hedwig to your blood-traitor friend. After that, your body ran out of energy, and I didn't wake until you did._/

/_So..._/

/_I assume that the boy contacted his parents and they brought you here._/

/_Oh, Okay._/ Harry replied, yawning out the last word.

/_Go back to sleep, brat._/ To Harry's drowsy mind, the Dark Lord's voice almost sounded affectionate, but that couldn't be right. _'I'm his enemy. He's already tried to kill me twice—why would he show any affection for __me__?'_ He laughed to himself. '_The day Voldemort shows affection is a cold day in hell...'_

Harry yawned again. /_G'night, Voldemort,_/ he murmured softly, smiling at the answering /_Good night, brat._/

**DMHPDM**

Ron hurried down the halls of St. Mungo's, running ahead of his mother. He stopped at the end of another long corridor, opening the door hesitantly and peeking inside. A broad grin spread across his face at seeing his friend sitting in a hospital bed staring at a wall with a spacey look on his face.

"Hey, mate!" Ron said, opening the door wider and walking into the ward.

Harry looked up in surprise. "Ron? Mrs. Weasley?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Visiting you, of course. What else would I be doing?" Mrs. Weasley smiled as Harry's face pinked. Ron grinned again, sitting in a chair next to Harry's bed and asking, "So how are you?"

His friend smiled back at him, nearly bouncing in his seat. "I'm great! They said I won't ever have to go back to the Dursleys. I don't even have to see them again if I don't want to!"

"Really?" Ron replied. "That's brilliant! Are they going to be arrested?"

Harry nodded. "Yep! An auror came by earlier, and told me both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were arrested this morning by Muggle authorities, and Dudley's going to be put in a foster home. The trials start next Friday."

"That's wonderful, dear," Mrs. Weasley said warmly. "Harry, I think I'm going to step out and talk to your healer for a few moments about when the twins and Ron need to speak with the auror."

Harry frowned, confused. "Why would they need to do that?"

Ron said "We...uh...we were the ones that found you."

Mrs. Weasley nodded in confirmation. "Yes, well, I'll probably be gone a little while, so you boys behave." After she stepped out of the room, Harry turned to Ron.

"You and the_ twins _found me?" He asked incredulously. Then, sighing, he asked, "So what happened after my..._companion_ sent you that note?"

Ron shrugged. "I panicked when I got your note. I mean," he said defensively, "it was covered in smudges of blood and looked like You-Know-Who had written it! What's up with that, anyway?" Ron asked. "I thought he couldn't control you."

Harry laughed. "He can't—well, not _really_. He thinks it was because I was unconscious and in danger; my magic knew I wasn't in any shape to defend myself, and Vo-_You-Know-Who_ would have a better chance at keeping me alive." At Ron's "Oh" he gestured impatiently. "Go on. What happened next?"

Ron exhaled, continuing his narrative. "Well, Fred and George were the first ones I saw, and they suggested that we take our dad's flying car to your house and check on you. We did, and while we were arguing about whether to take you home or here, bloody _Snape_ walked in and took you and me to St. Mungo's while the twins flew home." He then hesitated, before adding, "Oh, and they know about your, uh, your _companion_."

Harry's eyes widened, and he exclaimed in alarm, "What? They know?"

Ron nodded. "I made them both swear not to let it slip, though—and they won't," he added, trying to reassure his friend, who looked like he was about to hyperventilate. "Fred and George may be goofs, but they won't mess around when it's serious."

Harry trembled slightly. "Okay, I trust you, Ron." Then, after a brief pause he added, "Oh, and You-Know-Who wanted me to tell you something."

Ron stared, paling slightly. "He what?"

Harry grinned at the apprehensive look on Ron's face. " Relax, he's not planning your torture or anything," Harry giggled, before growing serious. "He says that if you really want to keep it a secret, you need to be careful around adults. There's this magic called 'Legilimency' that's essentially mind-reading."

"Mind-reading?"

"Yeah. He knows of at least four Masters in the Mind Arts (besides him, anyway), and a bunch more who can scan people's surface thoughts."

Ron shuddered. "I don't like the sound of that. Someone reading my mind—yeck!"

Harry nodded fervently. "I know what you mean. The four people we _really_ have to watch out for are Dumbledore, Snape, some lady named Amelia Bones, and a Griselda Marchbanks. He said that they were so good they could even read a person with some mind magic training without that person noticing at all."

"Wow," Ron breathed. "That's kind of scary." Then the thought struck him. "Snape can read minds? No _wonder_ no one ever gets away with anything with him. He's cheating!"

Harry laughed so hard he fell over on the bed.

After he had calmed down a bit, Harry began to tell Ron about his talk with the night healer, and what he had learned from him about Harry's magical guardian.

Ron gaped. "Merlin's Beard! I think a magical guardian who neglects his charge can be sentenced to nearly twenty years in Azkaban. Longer if the kid was abused because of his neglect."

Harry queried in bewilderment, "What's Azkaban?"

"Azkaban is the British wizarding prison. The guards are these horrible creatures that such all the happiness out of you. Dad says everyone sent to Azkaban comes away mad as a hatter."

Harry shook his head. "That's awful."

Ron suddenly snickered, breaking the morose silence. "Merlin, Harry, _everything _happens to you, doesn't it?"

Harry snorted as well. "I guess so, Ron. I guess so."

* * *

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